


Flashes of Light

by ElfMaidenOfLight



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Bondage, F/M, Fluff, Multi-prompt fic, NSFW in chapter 6, Prompt Fic, Romance, Shibari, SummerGingerroseFest2020, chapter six is filthy but like in a wholesome way?, now with art!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:20:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24601486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElfMaidenOfLight/pseuds/ElfMaidenOfLight
Summary: A multi-prompt collection of drabbles and microfics for #SummerGingerroseFest2020Day 1: sweet romanceDay 2: adventuresDay 3: partners at workDay 4: tragic horrorsDay 5: positive loveDay 6: kink (shibari) <-- This chapter contains explicit sexual content.Day 7: funny storiesWith accompanying artwork by BenSoloLives (@WeAreBenSolo)
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Rose Tico
Comments: 78
Kudos: 86





	1. Day 1: sweet romance

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1: sweet romance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 1: sweet romance

Rose halts in her tracks, Hux bumping into her back as she stops short.

He splutters at her sudden, seizing shock. She can almost feel the nervous energy radiating off him, his hesitancy and embarrassment ever masked by a wall of cold indifference.

“This was a foolish idea,” he grinds out, tone turned toward self-destructive. “Nevermind it. Let’s go back-”

“No,” Rose breathes, taking a step towards the softly-illuminated underbelly of the X-T freighter up upon its jacks. It’s an old ship; decommissioned. It all but sits rusting there in the back of the base, away from the main hustle and bustle of camp. Alone. Secluded.

On the slightly damp ground beneath the craft rests a blanket- no, a tarp, like the ones they use to cover the outdoor supplies when the skies of Ajan Kloss decide to downpour. Perched on an upturned crate, a lantern with cracked housing dances fractured patterns through the shadows; upon the broad-leaved foliage and the metal fuselage and an old wine bottle that’s most likely been emptied long ago and recently re-filled with that hooch Snap’s been brewing in the the back of the canteen’s dry storage. An unopened pack of ration crackers completes the late-night picnic.

It’s no candlelight blanket under the stars, but-

_It’s perfect._

Rose feels unexpected emotion well in her throat, and when she turns to look at Hux, she’s surprised to find him staring right back at her, gaze flickering over her face, cataloging her expression, trying to understand what she’s feeling with his ever-curious, deductive eye.

“You... did this?” She breathes, a smile breaking over her face.

It’s then that he looks away, frowning, until she tugs on his sleeve and regains his attention.

“C’mon,” Rose whispers with a tilt of her head, pulling him towards her and towards the folded Resistance-issued tarp and the dancing, broken lights and the sweet-tart liquor waiting to be tasted.

Hux follows, caught in the glow that halos her face.

BenSoloLives (@WeAreBenSolo)


	2. Day 2: adventures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: adventures

Their lithium dealer was late to the drop. Their transport was an old, outdated model. The electrical storm in the planet’s upper atmosphere swept in earlier than they’d initially expected.

There were a myriad of reasons why their mission had gone so terribly sideways, but it nevertheless ended up with them grounded overnight until the storm cleared.

Which also meant sharing the cramped transport’s teeny-tiny little pilot’s cot.

Rose yanked on the corner of the course blanket they’d found in on-board storage, pulling it back over her, puffing in annoyance at the man behind her as they lay back-to-back.

Once-General-now-informant Armitage Hux, her reluctant companion on said mission, grumbled low in his throat, making an effort to tug the blanket a few inches back towards himself.

“You are not entitled to _all of it,”_ he muttered stiffly.

Rose huffed, supremely annoyed, tired and cranky and in need of a good night’s sleep and _that_ wasn’t going to happen any time soon, now was it? She tried to hunker down into the cot, her coat bundled up as a makeshift pillow.

“I’m absolutely freezing,” she hissed, lamenting their choice in transport. The old ships didn’t have the most upgraded life-support systems in the galaxy... They wouldn’t freeze to death, but it would be an uncomfortably chilly night.

Admittedly, the blanket didn’t help all that much.

“And this cot is way too small,” she added, voice borderline bratty. She was unable to see anything in the dark of the cabin, but she _swore_ she could hear Hux roll his eyes.

“Such lack of discipline,” she heard him say under his breath, but before she could counter with some scathing retort, the cot shifted, and with an roaring thrill she felt Hux move behind her, shifting where he lay until he’d turned over, his chest coming to rest against her back.

Her breath stilled.

Lying together like this, it provided more room on the cot, their bodies slotted together, but... it made Rose’s heart jump into her throat as she felt the length of his body suddenly pressed against her.

“It’s for warmth,” Hux supplied in a hard tone, as if sensing her hesitation, but there was a waiver to his voice; barely detectable. It made Rose catch her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Of course,” she replied, allowing herself to relax against him, the heat of his body and the blanket wrapped around them suddenly _so good._

Her heart thudded, pounded, so hard she was afraid he would hear it.

For a long, long while then they were silent, the only sound the storm’s wind howling around the spacecraft.

Until--

“Hux?” Her voice was a whisper, his name a breath, tone laced with emotion she’d tried so desperately to ignore since his defection.

“Hm?” The sound came from over her shoulder, right near her ear, muzzy like he’d been falling asleep. She felt the dewy exhale of his breath on the back of her neck.

 _Hold me,_ she wanted to say, ask, demand; plead of him.

 _Hold me, just for a moment. Just until I’m sleeping._

Just so she could know the feel of being tucked between two thin-strong arms against a warm, solid chest, his heartbeat booming against her back.

Before she could formulate the words, his hand fluttered up against her hip, settling there without much weight, blazing like a firebrand even through her fatigues.

He waited for her scathing word, for her to throw him off, but when she didn’t, he trailed up his touch, encircling her waist and pulling her against him.

Rose’s breath punched out of her lungs, a hard exhale as she sunk back into him, nestled against his body as he clutched her, arm like a steel band around her middle.

Oh.

Oh, it felt _marvelous._

She tilted back a fraction, the back of her head connecting gently with his forehead.

“Hux?”

“Go to sleep,” he muttered, tone much warmer than she’d expected.

She felt his nose brush against the back of her neck, the vibration of his voice perking goosebumps all over her skin.

“Hux, you don’t have to--”

“Go to sleep, Rose,” he whispered low, his words soft, mouth ghosting over the skin behind her ear as his arm constricted around her.

“We... fit better this way,” he added, hesitant and halting.

“It’s just for warmth,” she assured, leaning back against him once again, trying to dispel his second-guessing, relishing in the way he held her tight.

“Of course,” he muttered, their feet tangling beneath the blanket.

BenSoloLives (@WeAreBenSolo)


	3. Day 3: partners at work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: partners at work

Rose’s head poked out from around the cargo ship’s open fuse panel.

“Can you hand me the-”

The exact spanner she’d been about to ask for was already waving in front of her face, Hux holding it above his head from where he was crouched upon the ground, shoulders deep in the timing belt compartment.

 _“Perfect,”_ she purred, snatching the tool with a grin, unable to see the pleased, satisfied expression on her work partner’s face.

There was a strange satisfaction in providing her with exactly the thing she needed, Hux had found. Over their few months working together, they’d stumbled into an almost unconscious, second-natured ability to anticipate each other's mechanical mind.

It was exceedingly gratifying to work with someone on-par with his own abilities, Hux thought. Someone who could understand him. Challenge him. Surpass him, even.

Hux was daydreaming, unfocused, the belt he was winding stretched taut beyond any factory recommendations.

Suddenly, the belt snapped, whipping around its housing and connecting with a _fwip-crack! a_ gainst the metal welding.

Hux barely had time to see the jagged end coming for his face, an undignified, pitched gasp of surprise escaping him before he shielded his own face with his right hand.

A sharp sting of pain ripped across his glove, from the pad of his pinky finger down to the meat of his palm. Instinct had saved his eyes from injury, only to tear open the skin of his hand.

Almost immediately, Rose’s voice came from over his shoulder.

“Hux? Are you alright?”

The belt slid uselessly to the hangar floor as Hux disentangled himself from the underbelly of the craft, standing.

Rose took one look at the peeled-open glove and the smear of red now running, dribbling, down his wrist, and gasped.

“Stars! What happened?”

“The belt. It was too tight...” his voice trailed off as she darted under their workbench, extracting the medkid that was stored there. She stood, moving toward him to grip at the pale slip of his wrist, pulling his injured hand towards her and pressing a thick pad of gauze to his injury.

Hux winced, the wound stinging at the sudden contact, watching as her fingers smeared against his skin, slick with rivulets of his blood. Suddenly, now that the immediate thrill of the accident had subsided, Hux felt oddly exposed. Ashamed. 

“Tico...”

“Shh,” she whispered, voice soft, concentrating hard as she held the gauze to his hand, cradling his fingers in her tender grasp. 

A shaking exhale stuttered from her lungs. “You’ve-- you’ve got to be more _careful,_ Hux,” she chided, brows kitting, face tilting up toward him as if a stern expression would imbue her words with increased fervor.

Her naked, ardent concern left him speechless.

His hand throbbed.

Hux frowned, dropping his eyes from her searching gaze to where she held him.

“A mere mechanical misstep,” he murmured.

“And you’ve ruined your glove,” she lamented, as if she hadn’t heard him, fingering the slit in the black leather, peeling it back to get a better look at his wound. “Shit. We’re going to need some bacta. We’ll have to go to medbay.”

Her attention once again turned up toward his face. “How are you feeling?”

Her question reverberated through him, eager concern settling warm and weighty in the pit of his stomach.

“Better now,” he said, truthful, before he could second guess his own words, his gaze intense. He watched her lips part slightly, a slow-moving flush creeping across the bridge of her nose before settling into the apples of her cheeks.

“Good,” she whispered, looking down and biting at her bottom lip. “I wouldn’t want my assistant out of commission, now would I?”

“No,” he agreed, the word a low rumble in his chest, watching as she sopped up the blood upon his wrist, “you wouldn’t.”

BenSoloLives (@WeAreBenSolo)


	4. Day 4: tragic horrors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: tragic horrors

The scream of Paige’s name still rattles in her throat, echoing about the bedroom as he wrenches her awake. She gasps, seizing, twisting in his arms, desperate to be free before she realizes where she is and who is holding her. Terror dissolves into chest-heaving grief, gasping as she sobs, burying her face in his chest and clutching the shirt he sleeps in. She twists the fabric in her fingers as she wets him with her tears, wailing.

Hux holds her as she shakes against him, despair wracking her so thoroughly he can feel it in his own body.

Her moans of loss catch and warble, ripping at his heart.

Hux knows, deep down, that he bears much responsibility for this pain she feels; endures. The machine he created, the army he fostered, it took away her friends, her family, and her home. He does not deserve to be the man in which Rose finds comfort, but she has decided to love him, and he is not strong enough to deny her, even if her impassioned affection cuts him deep with self-imposed shame.

When she cries like this, heavy and from the core of her, Hux never knows what to say. Unlike Rose, who soothes his own night terrors with comforting words and affirmations of love and assurances of his safety, all he can do is hold her.

Hux presses a kiss to her forehead as Rose’s tears begin to ebb, her voice shaking as she rakes in breath.

“S-sorry...”

“Nonsense,” he mutters, with the whole of his love for her, pressing his cheek to the crown of her head. Her body melts against him as her tension drains.

When the nightmares come, sleep eludes them both. In the pre-dawn hours they find themselves in their apartment’s small kitchen, Hux brewing tea as Rose lays her head down on the table and its cool, polywood surface.

Sometimes, they talk about the things they see. Not in the dark, while the veil between waking and sleep still threads thin, but later, in the light. Not now. Now is for soothing. Soothing, grounding, loving.

Hux sets Rose’s mug down before her. She lifts her head as he sinks into the chair beside her. She gives him a watery smile, gaze falling back down to the tabletop, mind still swimming in the fading memory of her nightmare.

Reaching out, Hux notches a finger under her chin, tilting her face back up, coaxing her away from dark thoughts. His thumb strokes her jaw, hand trailing up to sweep her hair back from her face.

Rose closes her eyes, leaning into his touch, sitting there in her overlarge sleep shirt, dried tears streaking her face. She looks sad, and tired, but beautiful.

Hux leans in to kiss her temple, then her cheek, tasting the faint echo of salt before he feels her warm fingertips on his jaw.

Leaning toward one another, their foreheads touch, a swell of quiet contentment growing between them. Grief and pain and self-doubt still within themselves, but hard-won, improbable love nurtured there nonetheless.

The steam from their mugs curl into the air, the planet’s sun cresting over the spaceport in the distance. Dusky pinks and blues creep in through the kitchen window, drawing light into the dark.

BenSoloLives (@WeAreBenSolo)


	5. Day 5: positive love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: positive love

“Kəˈkāō cake?”

Rose nodded emphatically from across the small kitchen table. “Yeah! It’s supposed to be this real fancy dessert; hard to make but all liquid chocolate inside if you get it right. Connix said she tried it on one of the core worlds.”

The image conjured itself in Hux’s mind.

“Ah yes,” he said at length, setting aside his cup of tea, “I do recall such a confection. I believe I saw it served at a few of the galas I attended.”

He didn’t mention that those galas had been at the Order’s behest. A place for deals to be made and arms to be traded; weapons to wipe out the Resistance, her friends, and _her,_ but then, things were different now, weren’t they? 

Rose cocked her head slightly. “You saw it served? You never tried it?”

Hux made a low noise, shaking his head slightly. “I was never one to sample food the production of which I was not privy to. To avoid poison and the like,” he added at her quirked brow. “I much preferred--”

“Nutrimilk and ration bars, yeah, I know.” Rose smiled, teasing, but shook her head. “Incredible you can still taste food at all.”

“It was an efficient, nutritional regiment,” Hux noted with a bit of forced loft, his pride stung.

“Sounds bland,” Rose countered, her nose wrinkling.

“Yes, well, most efficient things are.”

* * *

It took Rose weeks to gather all the necessary ingredients. Longer than she would have liked, but it was all rather expensive. No matter. She wanted to make it; a treat for them both.

She followed every step of the recipe to the letter.

As the confection baked, their kitchenette upended in mess only Rose’s cooking could produce, the dessert’s rich, warm smell permeated their small apartment: sweet and pungent.

Hux lowered the datapad in his hands, letting his eyes wander over to gaze surreptitiously at the woman now bent before the sonic oven, peering in through the front panel of transparasteel.

Rose was excited, he could tell. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, impatient, the motion swaying her plump ass back and forth.

Hux watched, jaw working; mesmerized.

Too soon, her little gasp broke him out of his ogling.

“I think it’s done,” she whispered, voice tinged with reverence as she gathered the heat-proof gloves in order to extract her prize.

As she sat it down on the table between them, a small dome of dark umber resting in its little baking dish, Hux did not have to feign being impressed.

“It looks...”

Rose grimaced. “Okay?”

“Incredible,” he breathed, inspecting the delicate, puffed up center with a keen gaze. Smelled incredible, too, he thought. Certainly better than any nutrimilk _he’d_ ever come across.

Rose beamed at him, feeling warm all over.

“Should we try it?” She lowered herself into the chair across from him, holding two spoons, handing one over to him.

They both stared at the dessert then, neither moving.

Hux could see how she hesitated.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been about to eat something so expensive,” she muttered, a look of concentration flitting over her face, as if she were trying to discern the best angle of attack.

How endearing, Hux thought with a slight smile.

Gently, he slid his utensil into the center of the little cake, the top deflating a bit as the molten center flooded the bowl of the spoon.

“Oh, it came out perfect,” Rose sighed.

He lifted the bite upward, offering.

“Huh?” She turned pink at the sight of him. His eyebrows jumped, but he did not retract his hand.

After a moment, Rose acquiesced, licking her lips and blinking up at him coyly as she leaned forward and captured the spoon in her mouth. Her lips pressed against the metal as she slid the bite clean, not breaking eye contact. Hux swallowed thickly.

“Oh wow,” she mumbled, sitting back, eyes finally fluttering closed. “It’s amazing, Hux. Try it.”

He did. It was almost too sweet for him, but he enjoyed it well enough. Watching Rose enjoy it was a treat in and of itself.

“You did an excellent job,” he said, gesturing to the little cake with his spoon once they’d thoroughly dug in.

Rose blushed. “Thanks. I was never much of a cook, but I wanted to try anyway.”

“It would no doubt rival any core world baker’s,” he proclaimed solemnly.

Rose scoffed, but it was light and full of good humor, her tone infused with that infectious warmth of hers as she dipped her spoon in again. “How would you know! You said you never tried it before!”

His gaze turned serious. “Because you put your heart into it, my dear.”

Rose bit her lip, a slow grin spreading.

“You’re too much,” she muttered, blush deepening into her cheeks, “you know that?”

“So I’ve been told,” Hux replied, reaching out to nudge away a smear of chocolate at the curved corner of her lips, following the motion forward in order to steal from her a kiss. 

Oh, she tasted divine.

BenSoloLives (@WeAreBenSolo)


	6. Day 6: kink (shibari)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 6: kink (shibari)
> 
> \---> This chapter contains explicit sexual content. <\---

Day 6: kink

“Beautiful.”

The word shudders down her spine, his voice close to the shell of her ear, ghosting warm breath down her neck and raising goosebumps along her skin.

“Perfectly symmetrical,” Hux muses, tone warm and honeyed, obviously proud of himself, pulling away and taking a turn around her where she’s crouched upon the ground, chin caught between his thumb and forefinger as he regards her.

Rose watches him with wide, lust-blown eyes, working the cord in her mouth, heart hammering madly at the look on his face.

Sharp cheekbones, glittering green beach-glass gaze, and a small smirk tilting at the corners of his plush, delicious-looking mouth...

He’s wearing his General’s uniform. Not so shiny and crisp as it once was, not since it’s been folded away in the bottom of his trunk, but the air he takes on when those shoulder pads flair and the collar is done up tight--

Rose would press her thighs together at the thought if she could. But she can’t. Not with the cord twisting down her spine, cinching her back to her similarly bound legs and holding her hands behind her. The pretty lattice work he’s tied criss-crosses, connecting down and through, stringing her wrists back to her far-apart ankles, knees splayed. The position juts out her chest, framed by tight binding.

The strain of it, the way she wants to curl her toes in and slide her thighs together but can’t-- the denial jilts hot and wet into the core of her.

She’d thought it’d be a fun little game, to suggest this sort of thing, but she’d be damned if Hux didn’t always exceed her expectations.

Always striving for perfection, her General.

Rose’s heart thuds against her ribs with tight anticipation as she loses sight of him again and he moves out of her peripheral vision.

The fabric of his costume rustles, and she knows he’s right behind her, taking a knee between her ankles, taking a deep inhalation at the nape of her neck and fluttering the soft curls there.

Rose closes her eyes and bites off a moan, muffled by the fabric clenched forcibly between her teeth. She loves this, loves them, loves how she can give him the control he’s so desperately chased for so many years, knowing that here he can finally reach it, hold it, use it, but in the end, when she comes fluttering down, he’ll catch her and worship her and lay aside the man he once wanted to be for the man whom she loves.

The thought doesn’t dispel the sweet feeling of danger he creates when his hand slips around her neck, drumming on the length of her windpipe as he nuzzles behind her ear.

“Precious thing,” he whispers. 

Rose swallows, feeling the tight grip of him against her throat, pleasure skittering as he trails his fingertips down, down, over her shoulders and the twisting cord, using both hands now as he flutters against the skin under her breasts, running slowly lower against her sides.

She writhes, but can’t, not when he’s so good and so thorough and she’s held so tight.

And _god_ she’s so wet.

Something jerks; his finger in a knot against her back, and suddenly she’s tilting forward, suspended as the world around her pitches. He’s holding her forward, her weight hinging on her knees, legs coming away from the ground.

“Ah, my little rebel,” he whispers, voice edging dangerously with strain. He wants to ruin her, she can tell, but he’s holding back, wanting to savor every moment of her subjugation.

He lets her down, gently forward, her face coming to rest upon a puddle of soft fabric on the ground. She moves her head to the side, cheek resting against the silk, the new position jutting her ass and hips into the air, her legs and arms strung back, the whole contraption keeping her immobile as she sinks into the new position in which he’s moved her.

The whole thing exposes her completely.

“Hm,” he hums, pleased, and Rose whimpers, knowing he’s appraising her, appreciating her, eyeing her in all her glory, taking in the slick that’s dripped down the inside of her thigh.

She gives a start when she feels his hand on her upper thigh, trailing fire towards the throbbing heart of her cunt, her legs pulled ever open by the tight-spun cord, baring everything to him.

She moans as his hand palms her from behind, finger trailing down to tap against her entrance, as if contemplating, before sinking fully inside and crooking hard.

Rose’s back arches, or tries to, face mashed against the silk bundled beneath her cheek as she warbles around the gag. His long, nimble touch strokes languidly, as if he has all the time in the world, adding a second digit as he fills her to his knuckle.

She wants him _so bad,_ and tries bearing down on his fingers despite being restrained, wanting more of him; all of him.

She wriggles and whimpers, tears of frustration and pleasure gathering in her eyes as he twists inside her, thumbing around her front for her clit, stroking and pressing in varying pressures.

 _“Hux, please,”_ she cries, but her words are hamstrung, and all that comes out are formless, gurgling sounds. And yet, he knows. He doesn’t want to torture her, to deny her; _hurt her_. The opposite, in fact. He loves her pleasure.

Slowly, he withdraws, and slaps her ass cheek wetly with his dripping palm, making her moan.

She sucks a sharp breath through her nose when she hears him shuck away his belt and trousers, large hands gripping the swell of her hips as he pulls her slightly back, the blunt tip of his cock gliding against the heartbeat between her trembling legs.

“Rose,” he mutters, sounding almost as undone as she does, her name a reverent prayer as it falls from his lips and he sinks down inside her.

 _Oh stars_ , she cries out in her mind, eyes fluttering closed at the tight, thick fill of him, unrelenting as he slowly pushes in and settles to the hilt, stilling within her.

 _Oh, oh, oh,_ she chants, babbling without words, the feel of him all-consuming and delicious and _damn_ , she’s so close already.

“Are-- are you alright, my dear?”

His voice, soft and full of concerned devotion, floats in through the haze of her white-hot, coiling pleasure. She flutters uselessly around him, adjusting to the stretch.

“Mmhm,” she intones, nodding slightly, hot tears of want and frustration breaking away and running down her cheeks.

She can nearly hear him smirk in triumph.

Pulling back, he snaps his hips, jerking her forward. He bottoms out, pangs deep inside her, radiating a bolt of pleasure throughout her body as she goes boneless, pliable, relishing in the way he holds her firm as he begins a steady, crushing pace.

Her moans hitch as he forces out each of her breaths with every slap against her skin, spiraling her higher. Her knees ache on the hard floor, but it only makes her ecstasy spike and climb. She wants to twist fabric between her hands, rake her fingers down his back, pull his hair until he hisses in pain, but she can’t. She’s tied. He’s doing what he wants with her, what she wants him to, but she is powerless to react, and the thought of him drawing out her pleasure with loving, firm force only heightens the electric jolt that each thrust sparks deep in the pit of her stomach.

One of his hands reaches down and around, stroking her clit with the feather-light pads of his fingers, a stark contrast of the punishing strength in his hips as he fucks her. The dual feeling, overwhelming, tumbles her over the edge.

Rose jerks, seizes, shuddering in his hands as her body constricts and squeezes him as he rides her through her orgasm.

He’s not far behind, undone by the woman he loves convulsing under him, her body a vice around his cock.

His movement stutters, rhythm stilting, his grip on her now bruising as he pulls her down against him and takes her deep, holding her there as pleasure pulses through him and he spills inside her.

Before she’d even come down off her high, Hux is already untying the knot that holds the gag inside her mouth, and as it falls away, wet with saliva, she gasps in a deep, glorious breath.

He pulls out of her and she whimpers at the loss of him, and at the feeling of him slipping against her tender flesh, her body boneless as he swiftly and deftly unbinds her.

As she’s freed, Hux gathers her up in his arms, cradling her and kissing every inch of her face he can reach, warming blood back into the parts of her gone numb from where she strained against the ropes.

“Rose?”

Her eyes crack open, almost unaware that she’s sagged against him, drifting on clouds. 

She smiles loosely. 

“Hmm?”

“You’re not hurt, are you?”

“Mmno,” she slurs, kissing his shoulder, biting it gently. “That was... real nice.”

He chuckles, massaging her skin, pulling the silk blanket over her body.

“I dare say I enjoyed it too.”

“Love you,” she whispers, cupping his face, angling it down so she can capture his mouth, so soft and loving against hers.

Their lips slide apart, and Hux nuzzles her nose “And I you, my dear. Shall I take you to bed?”

Rose nods, feeling safe and warm in the strong circle of his arms as he hitches her against his body, rising from the floor. She rests her head against him, breathing in his scent, borne away to sleep by the gentle beat of his heart.

BenSoloLives (@WeAreBenSolo)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Brit Hux-Tico (birchwoods01) for being a beta on this chapter!


	7. Day 7: funny stories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 7: funny stories
> 
> This shifted from funny to sappy-sweet real fast XD  
> Oh well!

Rose pulls the elastic band down under his chin and fixes it there, taking a step back to admire her handiwork.

“Cute,” she coos.

“It is _not. cute.”_

Her nose wrinkles. “It sort of is, though.”

Hux’s frown dips even deeper than before, his arms folded tightly over his chest where he sits. The cone-shaped party hat she’s affixed to his head is cocked slightly to one side, making him look cross and comically quizzical all at the same time.

 _Stars,_ it’s cute, Rose thinks.

Hux, for his part, tries to make his expression more severe, but the party hat is completely disarming. Eventually, he relents, huffing.

“This is a ridiculous endeavor.”

Rose waves him off. “It’s just Poe’s birthday.”

“As I said-”

“Hey.” She didn’t have to bend down much to level with his gaze. “It’s one night. You’ll survive, okay?”

His lips twitch to the side in a pursed, resigned sort of way.

“You just said the other day how Poe isn’t so bad,” she added, rising up and shrugging on her jacket.

Hux got to his feet. “Yes. Standing on the other side of the room, preferably with his mouth shut.” He went to pull the ridiculous paper hat from his head when Rose rounded on him, finger waggling in a slow, seductive back-and-forth.

“Nuh-uh,” a sly look overtook her face. “Keep it on until the end of the night and I promise to make it worth your while. A surprise. How about that?”

A surprise, hm?

His eyebrows jump, hand paused in the air. Realizing she’s not teasing, he smirks, lowering his arm. “Alright, Commander. I’ll play your game.”

Rose gives him a smug smile. “Good.”

The revel was out on one of the deserted airstrips, a good majority of their fighters having flown home now that the war was winded down. The homemade hats were just one of the cobbled-together decorations that greeted them as they rounded the foliage.

String-lights had been criss-crossed between remaining X-Wings and other star fighters, rough-cut fabric scraps flapping in the wind like little triangular flags, local flora gathered in bunches on the scrap-metal table that filled with label-less bottles of home brewed liquor and various other spirits, probably lifted from some First Order transports months ago.

It was all very homespun and... _quaint,_ Hux thought with a repressed sneer. All misgivings evaporated however as Rose turned from where she walked ahead of him, giving him a bright, beaming look of excitement.

His heart stutters, and he allows her a small smile in return.

She takes his hand then, pulling him into the revelry.

“Oiy! Rose! Hugs!”

Hux feels a shadow of annoyance at Dameron’s voice, but then the look in Rose’s eyes-- light and warm and... something else....

_A surprise._

Hux cocks his head, unable to discern exactly what she has in mind, but follows her nonetheless, accepting a dented tin cup of liquor as its passed into his hand.

Night falls amid the party goers, laughter and warbly music and a large bonfire curls into the night’s sky. 

Hux watches from his position outside the fire ring as Rose chats animatedly with another Resistance member. She’s swaying hypnotically to the scratchy music patched in through an old pair of terminal speakers.

Hux is so caught in the sight of her, firelight dancing over her body, that he doesn’t hear the other man until--

“Don’t you look... festive.”

Hux glances around at the former stormtrooper now sinking into a seat beside him.

He sneers. _“What.”_

Finn points with his cup, gaze flitting to the top of Hux’s head.

Oh. The _hat._

The other man is wearing his own silly headpiece, except that his is bent somewhat from all the excitement.

Hux goes to pull the thing off his head, having forgotten it was there at all, but then his gaze flits over to Rose, watching as her eyes squint as she smiles and laughs heartily at something one of the others was saying. He lets the hat be.

“I guess congratulations are in order, huh?” Finn reaches out to clink Hux’s cup. “Rose drives a hard bargain, but man does she get what she wants.”

Hux fixes the other man with a confused look. “Excuse me?”

Finn’s mouth drops open after a moment, as he suddenly realizes Hux has no idea what he’s talking about. He shuts up _quick._

“Uh...” the man hedges, rubbing the back of his neck.

Hux’s tone is tight, his curiosity and ire piqued. “Yes?”

“Uhh... well, that is...”

“Finn!”

Finn is mercifully saved by the man of the hour, a clearly inebriated Poe Dameron waving his way over, slouches against his compatriot.

“Poe!”

“Dameron.”

“Hugs!” Poe fixes Hux with unfocused eyes. “When did you get here!?”

Hux frowns, gesticulating. “I have been here the whole t-”

“Come on, Finn!” Dameron doesn’t even wait for Hux to finish, tucking his head into the former stormtrooper’s neck and either kisses him or bites down-- Hux tries not to look too closely-- much to Finn’s complete mortification, and perhaps secret delight. “Rizza’s teaching us another drinking game!”

“Oh no, you _do not_ need to keep drinking-- hey!”

But Poe was already off, ducking through the crowd. 

Finn throws Hux an apologetic look before scrambling to his feet and taking off after his cad of a boyfriend. Hux watches them go, thoroughly bewildered.

_What in the hell?_

“Hey you,” a voice pulls his attention, soft and slow, and Hux looks around to see Rose coming up toward him, eyes a little heavy with exhaustion and drink.

“Good evening, Commander,” he says with faux formality, standing and giving her a tilt of his head. Rose giggles, and he can see the flush in her cheeks, from the fire and from the strong liquor. Hux can feel a similar warmth simmering in the pit of his own stomach from his cups.

“I see you’ve survived having a bit of fun,” she teases, whirling her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Indeed,” he replies solemnly, gaze drawn to her mouth.

Rose leans in, whispering, “I think I’ve tortured you enough for one evening. Walk me back?”

He obliges with pleasure, hooking his arm around hers as they turn towards the dark between the bonfire and the barracks. They make it as far as the first hangerbay before she’s pulling on his collar and he’s backing her up against the nearest ship and kissing her silly, holding her steady by the arms. She’s tipsy, but then, so is he.

They manage to control themselves, breathing heavy and suppressing fluttering laughs and chuckles as they revolve in each other's' orbits back towards their room.

“You seem awfully pleased with yourself,” Hux remarks when she stops abruptly, crashing into him in the middle of the hallway to steal another kiss.

“I got you to spend a _whole evening_ out there. Of course I’m pleased.”

“That’s how it is then, hm?” He needles as they reach their room.

“Uh-huh. I always get what I want.”

_“She gets what she wants.”_

The door to their bunk slides shut behind them.

“Rose...”

His tone makes her pause where she’s slipping off her jacket, top buttons of her shirt already undone. She takes in his hesitation where he’s standing awkward and tall in the little room.

Rose frowns. “What is it?”

Hux looks away, but then back again, gaze hard.

“I was given some sincere congratulations this evening,” he starts slow, not wanting to ruin the moment but then again _needing to know._ “Something about bargains and your well-known tenacity.” He quirks a single brow at her as he slips the party hat off his head and places it aside.

Rose’s mouth forms a round “oh”. She looks conflicted, like his words have divided her choices between having a serious conversation and the continuation of shucking off her clothing to have her way with him.

Hitching herself up onto the edge of their cot, she crooks her finger at him. Hux obeys, coming forward, and lets himself be caged by her legs, which she hooks around the back of his knees.

“Is it part of that ‘surprise’ you were going on about?” he whispers down at her.

Rose looks up with her deep, soulful eyes, hands smoothing down the arms of his shirt.

“Maybe... actually, that was a different surprise.”

“Two surprises? My goodness.”

“Well, one of them isn’t that exciting,” she mutters, splaying her hand on his chest and working a few of her fingers under his buttons. “I just wanted to say thank you for coming with me tonight. And for not taking the hat off.”

“Yes, well, you seem to have lost yours,” he rumbles low, almost a purr. He slowly takes the pins out of her buns and buries both his hands in her hair, tipping her head back at a sharper angle so that her neck elongates and arches up to look up at him.

Rose flutters her eyes closed, enjoying the way he’s cradling her head, sighing contentedly.

“But I do admit,” he adds, “I’m bit more curious as to the other subject, seeing as your friends seem to know a good deal more than I do about something that involves the two of us.”

He can’t keep the note of hesitation from his voice; his tight worry. Fear, born from so many years of having everything he wanted only for it to slip out from between his fingers.

Rose cracks open one eye to look at him, frowning with a precious pout.

“Sort of wanted to have this conversation when we were both a bit more sober,” she grumbles.

“Ah, perhaps we don’t always get what we want, hmm?”

“Eh-arg. Damn it, Finn,” she sighs. “Okay,” she reaches up and detangles his fingers from the nape of her neck, holding his hands with her own in her lap.

Hux watches, waits, brow creased but expectantly silent.

“I enlisted Finn to help me- ah, purchase some sensitive contraband, I guess you could say. Sort of, off-the- books material.”

A disbelieving frown pulls at his mouth.

“What?”

Rose shifts, looking nervous. “It’s two C-class transport tickets. Without personal scanner codes. Blank ports of entry and blank destinations. Finn said that stuff can be filled in before we use them.” She looks at him finally, flush in the face, now more from embarrassment than drink. “If we want to use them,” she adds softly.

Hux stares at her.

Civilian-class transport tickets?

He’s so stunned that, for a moment, words fail him.

Without scanner codes they would be untraceable. None of the customs officials would even look twice.

Those tickets could take them anywhere.

“Rose...”

“I know! It’s ridiculous!” She hangs her head. “I didn't mean to spring it on you. I wanted to wait until after the party. I should have told you before but-” Her eyes shine. “The Resistance will be disbanding. We don’t have to stay here anymore. We can go wherever we want.”

Hux swallows hard, trying to understand what she’s getting at.

“Miss Tico... are you asking me to run away with you?”

Rose snorts through unshed tears, wiping her face with the palm of her hand.

“You’re making it sound _way_ more dramatic than it actually is.”

“On the contrary,” he rebuts, sliding a knee surreptitiously up on the edge of the bed, nudging it against her inner thigh. The movement propels him higher, so that Rose has to lean way, way back, until he’s vaulted over her so far that her back thumps down on the cot and suddenly he’s braced above her.

“It’s quite the serious proposition,” he mutters, gaze traveling over her in great detail, as if memorizing the way her hair is fanned in a dark, glossy wave against the starchy Resistance-issue sheets; how he’s pinned her arms out by her head in a light grip; the love in her gaze.

Rose’s voice is a whisper as she looks up at him. “I was afraid you’d say no.”

Her words sting him, although he knows that is not her intent.

Say ‘no’? To the most infuriatingly brilliant woman in the entire galaxy?

How could he?

Hux dips his head, mouth against her ear.

“I would follow you anywhere.”

He relishes the shudder of delight she cannot hide.

“Coruscant?” She tests.

He nips at her neck.

“Yes.”

“Bespin?”

His teeth graze her collarbone.

“Yes.”

“... Arkanis?”

He stills, his face nestled in the swell of her breast. He pulls back slightly to look at her.

“Anywhere,” he affirms, voice surprisingly steady.

Her eyes well up once more.

“Armitage...”

“I love you, Rose,” he says, voice thick with emotion. He smirks then, although it’s more loving than deriding. “You should know my covetous heart by now. I simply cannot let you escape now, can I?”

“Do you promise?” She asks, breath rushed, a vision where she’s pinned under him.

He sinks lower, releasing her only to hitch up her shirt, kissing her newly exposed skin.

“I promise.”

BenSoloLives (@WeAreBenSolo)


End file.
